Though it may seem that I am on a fierce mission to remove every suggestion of principled or ethical behaviour from my person, I must tell you that I occasionally give way and reveal my soft centre. I always cry at the Concern ads on the telly, for instance. Well, once. And I was slightly tipsy at the time. And I feel REALLY bad lying to winos when they ask me do I have a spare cigarette. Really. Today though I was stretched to the outer limits of my moral... well, limits. On my way out to buy my lunch I stumbled across a crisp orange fifty Euro note on the landing. Though I am almost always broke (and not infrequently drunk- the two are related only vaguely), I did not keep the booty* but instead handed it in to the surly receptionist at our front desk. 'Oh. Thanks.' she muttered, pocketing the note. The bitch probably kept it for herself. Slag.
See? Incorruptible, so I am.
*Only after a lengthy struggle with my inner demons. 'Take it! they screamed, 'you can get druuuunk!' 'No!' squealed my conscience, 'it is wrong!' In the end I ignored them all and reasoned that it could be some kind of horrible Candid Camera prank and I would be shamed nationwide as a theiving pinchpenny. That, my friends, is called 'logical thinking'.
Friday, July 15, 2005
Thursday, July 14, 2005
C3 in the Leaving Cert
Mon Dieu! Je oubliee la journee Bastille. Tres mauvais. J'adore le frenchies avec tout ma personne, vraiment. Aussi, j'adore parler le francais. La vacation. Sur la plage. Je voudrais une vacation sur la plage mais je travail dans une bureau tous les jours. Quel domage! Aussi, j'adore le cuisine de france. Les baguettes! Les gens de France sont tres gentile, je crois. La annee dernier, je... aller... a Paris...
[Oh fuck it. Fucking past tense got me in the Leaving Cert too.]
Vive le France!
[Oh fuck it. Fucking past tense got me in the Leaving Cert too.]
Vive le France!
Tenuous
According to Gunne Auctioneers' website:
"Like Paris before it, Irishtown is in a period of renaissance at the moment"
Irishtown. And Paris. Are similar. I shit you not.
"Like Paris before it, Irishtown is in a period of renaissance at the moment"
Irishtown. And Paris. Are similar. I shit you not.
You had a dirty look, you caught me on your hook
1: Lead singer in HARD-Fi
2: Mike Skinner (The Streets)
3: Jack White
4: Tim something-or-other, keyboard player from Keane
5: Pete Doherty
How girlish of me. Joanne and I spent yesterday afternoon exchanging angry emails over who the most fanciable men in music were. Oh God. I can't believe I just wrote the words 'most fanciable'. At least I didn't say 'most shaggable' or something vile like that. We'll move on.
Anyway, Joanne is with me on the Mike Skinner thing and the Tim from Keane thing but she has dismissed Jack White for being too high maintainence. We almost came to blows, or at least hissy fits, over Pete Doherty. While I find him enchanting in an utterly doomed and tragicly beautiful way, Joanne feels that 'that complete waste of human skin should be shot, not famous.'
But oh, I love the HARD-Fi. Please God let them not turn out to be this year's Athelete or I will weep pitiously and long. Whenever I hear Hard to Beat on the radio I have to lie down flat on the floor to control my breathing. Honestly. There isn't many pieces of music that affect me so drastically. I can actually feel my heart speed up.
Good grief. I disgust myself. I'm off to beat up a dog and/or practice spitting. I'm getting much too soft for my own good.
2: Mike Skinner (The Streets)
3: Jack White
4: Tim something-or-other, keyboard player from Keane
5: Pete Doherty
How girlish of me. Joanne and I spent yesterday afternoon exchanging angry emails over who the most fanciable men in music were. Oh God. I can't believe I just wrote the words 'most fanciable'. At least I didn't say 'most shaggable' or something vile like that. We'll move on.
Anyway, Joanne is with me on the Mike Skinner thing and the Tim from Keane thing but she has dismissed Jack White for being too high maintainence. We almost came to blows, or at least hissy fits, over Pete Doherty. While I find him enchanting in an utterly doomed and tragicly beautiful way, Joanne feels that 'that complete waste of human skin should be shot, not famous.'
But oh, I love the HARD-Fi. Please God let them not turn out to be this year's Athelete or I will weep pitiously and long. Whenever I hear Hard to Beat on the radio I have to lie down flat on the floor to control my breathing. Honestly. There isn't many pieces of music that affect me so drastically. I can actually feel my heart speed up.
Good grief. I disgust myself. I'm off to beat up a dog and/or practice spitting. I'm getting much too soft for my own good.
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
Maturity beckons (for some)
Because of the terrific response I got to my birthday declaration to Ashling last week*, I have decided in the interests of the already exhausted forests of the world to eschew all future card-sending and just give people a post-it on their birthday with my web address on. Here's another: Happy 22nd Donna (Sunday) and Joanne (yesterday)! I know, I'm brilliant. You're welcome!
*Actual conversation:
Lucy: Did you see your birthday present?
Ashling: Ooh, did you get me one then?
Lucy: Certainly did! A birthday announcement on my blog!
Ashling: Oh. Right. No gift tokens, no?
*Actual conversation:
Lucy: Did you see your birthday present?
Ashling: Ooh, did you get me one then?
Lucy: Certainly did! A birthday announcement on my blog!
Ashling: Oh. Right. No gift tokens, no?
Judge Roy Beans: Big disappointment
Judge Roy Beans has gone way down hill. I know that now all the Trinity heads have headed off on J1s and on backpacking adventures round Thailand it is sadly depopulated by it loylest devotees (a circumstance I am well glad of, let me tell you) but it remains a sad shadow of it's former self.
It is now part of the Porterhouse chain from what I can make out and they have done away with all the cowboy decor, the American Indian accessories and the unhealthily expansive cocktail list. Vile sounding traditional pub grub is offered in place of the gooey Tex mex grub of happier days and the ugly stag head by the door is gone. Even the grimy black pine has been painted over with white gloss and the walls are covered in teeny Yeats prints. Utterly vague and insipid. I am gutted. The pints are rotten as well. I will stay well clear in future. Bah.
On the other hand Pamela C. from Tramore is working behind the bar. So I could wangle free drinks maybe! I can forget all my principles in the face of a free drink.
It is now part of the Porterhouse chain from what I can make out and they have done away with all the cowboy decor, the American Indian accessories and the unhealthily expansive cocktail list. Vile sounding traditional pub grub is offered in place of the gooey Tex mex grub of happier days and the ugly stag head by the door is gone. Even the grimy black pine has been painted over with white gloss and the walls are covered in teeny Yeats prints. Utterly vague and insipid. I am gutted. The pints are rotten as well. I will stay well clear in future. Bah.
On the other hand Pamela C. from Tramore is working behind the bar. So I could wangle free drinks maybe! I can forget all my principles in the face of a free drink.
Lucy: Style Queen
What is going on? On my way in this morning I passed two Garda checkpoints on Thomas Street and Meath Street. I only barely avoided interrogation for my lack of a tax disc! Thank God I am not a car and therefore do not need motor tax. In other news, today I am wearing a navy waistcoat. I am the Irish Kate Moss! Obviously I am not wearing it with the bare bosom or the denim hotpants because I do not have the bodacious bod of Ms Moss. Neither am I an alleged crack addict. But what that has to do with Ms Moss I couldn't say.
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
Too Lazy to Post
6 songs:
Answering Bell- Ryan Adams
Train in Vain- The Clash
The Denial Twist- White Stripes
What Doesn't Belong to Me- Sinead O'Connor
July- Mundy [Apt, I feel]
Born to be a Dancer- Kaiser Chiefs
Answering Bell- Ryan Adams
Train in Vain- The Clash
The Denial Twist- White Stripes
What Doesn't Belong to Me- Sinead O'Connor
July- Mundy [Apt, I feel]
Born to be a Dancer- Kaiser Chiefs
Worst Pun of the Week
Overheard by Aoife in the throng right before the Killers' set on Sunday:
'What's all the hot fuss about?'
'What's all the hot fuss about?'
Friday, July 08, 2005
Make no noise: no tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move
I texted C as soon as I heard, which was rather late as it happened as I wasn't listening to the radio yesterday morning. She rang me just before one to say she was heading home to sleep as she was being moved to the night shift to cope with the large numbers of casualties. C works as a radiographer in a hospital in central London. Last night she emailed me this:
'Completely anti-climactical though for all our preparation-its really quiet now not many patients. Just met the minister for state-she popped round to say thanks! Its all a bit surreal though -we ve ben realising how close we are to where the bombs went off. Also been updated about the patients we x-rayed this morning- there was some amputations and stuff so not v nice. No one died here though so that's good.
'I ve x-rayed one girl who got off the tube after one explosion - [she] got on a bus and it was the bus that exploded. She was sitting on the top deck but only had some glass in her hand. How amazingly lucky.'
Aoife texted her brother who works in London yesterday morning to check he was okay. He failed to text her back till late last night, when he was out in the pub, and making slightly premature jokes about bombs. 'Hyped up on the heady relief of being alive,' I suggested gravely. 'No', sighed Aoife, 'He's just locked.'
My father has refused to ring his sister and brother in law who live in East London because 'they never travel in the city centre' and he 'never normally rings them anyway'. One would have thought that their home city being bombed was impetus enough to review the traditional norms of communication with one's family, but what do I know. I realise, by the way, that all this meloncholia sounds overly dour and false coming out of my usually trite and flippant gob, so, following in the Aughney family tradition I think I'll call a halt to it now and stop because I never normally talk like this anyway. And I'm not one to change my ways just because of world events.
'Completely anti-climactical though for all our preparation-its really quiet now not many patients. Just met the minister for state-she popped round to say thanks! Its all a bit surreal though -we ve ben realising how close we are to where the bombs went off. Also been updated about the patients we x-rayed this morning- there was some amputations and stuff so not v nice. No one died here though so that's good.
'I ve x-rayed one girl who got off the tube after one explosion - [she] got on a bus and it was the bus that exploded. She was sitting on the top deck but only had some glass in her hand. How amazingly lucky.'
Aoife texted her brother who works in London yesterday morning to check he was okay. He failed to text her back till late last night, when he was out in the pub, and making slightly premature jokes about bombs. 'Hyped up on the heady relief of being alive,' I suggested gravely. 'No', sighed Aoife, 'He's just locked.'
My father has refused to ring his sister and brother in law who live in East London because 'they never travel in the city centre' and he 'never normally rings them anyway'. One would have thought that their home city being bombed was impetus enough to review the traditional norms of communication with one's family, but what do I know. I realise, by the way, that all this meloncholia sounds overly dour and false coming out of my usually trite and flippant gob, so, following in the Aughney family tradition I think I'll call a halt to it now and stop because I never normally talk like this anyway. And I'm not one to change my ways just because of world events.
Thursday, July 07, 2005
Humphna-huh!
On those rare occasions when I manage to make it to work not only on time but before time, I like to dash off a quick email to a few of my peeps to impress them with my work ethic at hitting the office at 8.30am. Nothing huge, often just a laid back 'Yo, 'zup, homie? Nothing new here, just checkin'. Peace out.' See? Really casual. Sometimes I ring my mother, even though she's not in work 'till ten, just to alert her to the fact that I, her daughter, am early for work. I see it as just return on her hounding me out the door for school at nine for fourteen years.
This morning, however, I just lay down on the floor and moaned softly for ten minutes. I am VERY tired. I stayed up late watching the concert at Murrayfield ("Humphna-huh! Ah-huh ah-huh Papa's gotta bran' new baaaag!" That was my James Brown impression.) and boy, was it great. That Jamie Callum guy I REALLY like. And hands up who hasn't been waiting for the Boomtown Rats to reform? Personally, I was moved to tears when McFly sang their breakout hit 'It's All About You'. If that doesn't help to end world poverty then I don't know what will.
By the way, I am aware that half-past one is not really late for genuine swingers like yourself, but it is for me. And that's really the only reason I need when it's my blog.
This morning, however, I just lay down on the floor and moaned softly for ten minutes. I am VERY tired. I stayed up late watching the concert at Murrayfield ("Humphna-huh! Ah-huh ah-huh Papa's gotta bran' new baaaag!" That was my James Brown impression.) and boy, was it great. That Jamie Callum guy I REALLY like. And hands up who hasn't been waiting for the Boomtown Rats to reform? Personally, I was moved to tears when McFly sang their breakout hit 'It's All About You'. If that doesn't help to end world poverty then I don't know what will.
By the way, I am aware that half-past one is not really late for genuine swingers like yourself, but it is for me. And that's really the only reason I need when it's my blog.
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
Do not read while eating raisins
I am desperately unhappy. While wandering aimlessly round the internet in the manner of a drunk whory girl in a nightclub who has lost all her friends, I discovered a whispering about a special Josh Ritter gig to be played in Whelans of Wexford Street on Friday, prior to his set at Oxegen on the weekend. Naturally, I reacted violently and immediately, namely by screeching 'Whaaaaaaaat?' and dropping the raisins I had been eating down my top. Said gig is sold out anyway, and my entire chest area smells like dried fruit. How blue- making.
Joanne digs a hole for herself
'Oh my god,
'Your blog now makes me sound like a complete looser. Ah well. There ghosts wont catch themselves. Really though, you should see the size and speed of the orb.
'Just incase you dont know, an orb is a light anomalie which cannot be explaned. Eg: Its not a reflection from the torch, its not an insect scuttering by and its not a particle of dust. This is proven by a series of high tech camera close ups and stills. I dont have that facility but I KNOW in my HEART that I caught an orb.'
'Your blog now makes me sound like a complete looser. Ah well. There ghosts wont catch themselves. Really though, you should see the size and speed of the orb.
'Just incase you dont know, an orb is a light anomalie which cannot be explaned. Eg: Its not a reflection from the torch, its not an insect scuttering by and its not a particle of dust. This is proven by a series of high tech camera close ups and stills. I dont have that facility but I KNOW in my HEART that I caught an orb.'
Ghostbusters
Inspired by overdosing on episodes of Most Haunted, Joanne and the A-Man went on a ghost hunting mission around the backroads of Meath with her parents' camcorder. Here's the lowdown:
'Hi Lucy!!
'You missed the action last night. Ooooh, very spooky indeed.
'We actually couldn't find the haunted well, but we drove down a very spooky lane. Caught nothin there. Then we went to the Esso cos the A-man wanted smokes. Then we went down the notorious Bush Lane. Popular with randy couples the county over.
'So we parked up at the old graveyard and pointed the camera in at the headstones. The only vaguely spooky thing about this is that if you squinted, the headstones looked like menacing figures. But they werent menacing figures, they were lumps of stone. So we got out of the car. I went first with the camera, very blair witch actually. Then for the craic I did the snottery thing into it. A-Man told me to shut up cos I was killing the mood.
'So then we thought we heard something so we ran to the car. THEN I caught an orb!!!! I swear to god! So cool I have to show it to you!'
'Hi Lucy!!
'You missed the action last night. Ooooh, very spooky indeed.
'We actually couldn't find the haunted well, but we drove down a very spooky lane. Caught nothin there. Then we went to the Esso cos the A-man wanted smokes. Then we went down the notorious Bush Lane. Popular with randy couples the county over.
'So we parked up at the old graveyard and pointed the camera in at the headstones. The only vaguely spooky thing about this is that if you squinted, the headstones looked like menacing figures. But they werent menacing figures, they were lumps of stone. So we got out of the car. I went first with the camera, very blair witch actually. Then for the craic I did the snottery thing into it. A-Man told me to shut up cos I was killing the mood.
'So then we thought we heard something so we ran to the car. THEN I caught an orb!!!! I swear to god! So cool I have to show it to you!'
Monday, July 04, 2005
An Aside
8 songs:
For Lovers- Pete Doherty
Oh My God- Kaiser Chiefs
Hard to Beat- Hard-Fi
Fix You- Coldplay
No Brakes- Declan O'Rourke
Miss Ohio- Gillian Welch
Bedshaped- Keane
The Good Old Days- The Libertines
For Lovers- Pete Doherty
Oh My God- Kaiser Chiefs
Hard to Beat- Hard-Fi
Fix You- Coldplay
No Brakes- Declan O'Rourke
Miss Ohio- Gillian Welch
Bedshaped- Keane
The Good Old Days- The Libertines
Friday, July 01, 2005
Where will YOU be this weekend?
Care to venture a guess about what will be Ireland's musical highlight of the summer? U2 last weekend? Oxegen? Bud Rising? Slane (Oh, please)? You'd be wrong, friend! In actual fact, the most hotly anticipated musical event of this year will be taking place THIS weekend in the South East, in the picturesque seaside town of Tramore, County Waterford. That's right, it's the Trafest time of year!
A major date on any music lover's calender, this year is shaping up to be the best yet!* The full line-up for Trafest 2005 is available at musiklab.net and let me tell you, it is thrilling. I swear, I have literally never heard of ANY of them. Except the Saw Doctors, who are Ireland's best loved Western rednecks.
Some advice for Trafest virgins: It really doesn't matter where you go this weekend, you WILL end up in the Baldy Man by the end of the night. C'est inévitable. You will also almost definitely end up eating a kebab on a dirty street corner and singing Beyonce songs. (Or is that just me...) So you should just choose a music venue near it. Because Tramore is pretty much one square mile in it's entirety, proximity to other places is pretty much a given, wherever you are. C'est tres logical. Also, Tramore has almost no street names, at least none that anyone uses so you should just refer to different parts of it by mentioning a pub nearby.
Tonight I am going to Murphs to see Kyzer Soze, but this is just because they don't mind me roaring along to all the Chilli Pepper covers they do. If I had any sense I would go to see Robert O’Connor and The Bearded Ladies in the Shanty. Mainly because I am a huge fan of facial hair on women but also because local rag the Munster Express said that they:
'are forging an upward path in the Irish music industry with a sound that is uniquely their own.'
Mega.
*Blatant lie.
A major date on any music lover's calender, this year is shaping up to be the best yet!* The full line-up for Trafest 2005 is available at musiklab.net and let me tell you, it is thrilling. I swear, I have literally never heard of ANY of them. Except the Saw Doctors, who are Ireland's best loved Western rednecks.
Some advice for Trafest virgins: It really doesn't matter where you go this weekend, you WILL end up in the Baldy Man by the end of the night. C'est inévitable. You will also almost definitely end up eating a kebab on a dirty street corner and singing Beyonce songs. (Or is that just me...) So you should just choose a music venue near it. Because Tramore is pretty much one square mile in it's entirety, proximity to other places is pretty much a given, wherever you are. C'est tres logical. Also, Tramore has almost no street names, at least none that anyone uses so you should just refer to different parts of it by mentioning a pub nearby.
Tonight I am going to Murphs to see Kyzer Soze, but this is just because they don't mind me roaring along to all the Chilli Pepper covers they do. If I had any sense I would go to see Robert O’Connor and The Bearded Ladies in the Shanty. Mainly because I am a huge fan of facial hair on women but also because local rag the Munster Express said that they:
'are forging an upward path in the Irish music industry with a sound that is uniquely their own.'
Mega.
*Blatant lie.
Thursday, June 30, 2005
Just so you know how close you came to losing me
We've just had a fire drill. It was sooooo exciting. Highlight of my week, definitely. So far, obviously. Things might get mad-crazy-exciting tomorrow.
When the alarm went off we sat around for about five minutes looking at each other going 'Is that a test? I'd say it's just a test. Is it a test, dya think?'. Then, when we finally decided to go outside, I ran back to get my cardigan.
Dumb. If it had been a real fire I would be writing this dead. It's a new cardigan though.
When the alarm went off we sat around for about five minutes looking at each other going 'Is that a test? I'd say it's just a test. Is it a test, dya think?'. Then, when we finally decided to go outside, I ran back to get my cardigan.
Dumb. If it had been a real fire I would be writing this dead. It's a new cardigan though.
Wednesday, June 29, 2005
Charging onwards for gender equality
Yesterday evening, as I stood waiting for my bus on Aungier St, a man at the bus shelter looked me up and down and said: 'Hello love. You've been off spending his money, haven't you? Good woman, that's what you're there for!'
Now. Shall we have some background here? I was, at this time, carrying a shopping bag from a high street clothes shop. He was, at this time, holding a can of Dutch Gold and a carrier bag which held what looked like three more. It was seven o'clock in the evening. He was weaving slightly. I know, I know that I should have stood up to him and pointed out that his awareness of gender relations was disarmingly outdated and insulting, that I was well able to earn and (very much so!)spend my own money, that I'd thank him to keep his sexist opinions to himself in future, if he didn't mind, especially when addressing classy young ladies such as myself.
Nevertheless, it doesn't do to start talking to men drinking lager at bus stops in the early evening. Unless you're Marie, obviously. Then it's called your love-life. I weep for the number of feminist stances I have been forced to forgoe for the sake of common sense. Damn personal safety! I resist hypocrisy in all it's forms!
Bloody winos.
Now. Shall we have some background here? I was, at this time, carrying a shopping bag from a high street clothes shop. He was, at this time, holding a can of Dutch Gold and a carrier bag which held what looked like three more. It was seven o'clock in the evening. He was weaving slightly. I know, I know that I should have stood up to him and pointed out that his awareness of gender relations was disarmingly outdated and insulting, that I was well able to earn and (very much so!)spend my own money, that I'd thank him to keep his sexist opinions to himself in future, if he didn't mind, especially when addressing classy young ladies such as myself.
Nevertheless, it doesn't do to start talking to men drinking lager at bus stops in the early evening. Unless you're Marie, obviously. Then it's called your love-life. I weep for the number of feminist stances I have been forced to forgoe for the sake of common sense. Damn personal safety! I resist hypocrisy in all it's forms!
Bloody winos.
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
Happy Boobday
On Friday night I arrived a bit late at Claire Doyle's birthday party. Claire and Joanne were both VERY drunk. 'Would you like to see my new bra?' asked Joanne politely before immediately showing me her breasts. 'Oops, must've slipped off! It's one of those backless ones you see.' These bra accidents reoccurred intermittently throughout the evening.
'Did you see she mentioned me on her blog the other day?' shrieked the Mitten one.
'Not by your actual name though, Joanne, so it doesn't count.' hissed Claire disapprovingly.
'I forgot to get you a present,' I mumbled, 'Here, I got you this bag of jellies instead'. This was a lie. I had not forgotten, I had merely failed to retain enough money to buy her anything. Easily done.
Both paused in their quaffing of mugs of wine to purse their lips at my jellied offering. 'I DON'T think so.' sniffed Claire.
'Tell you what, you can mention me on your site and we'll call it quits.'
I was delighted. Blogging is FREE. So happy birthday, Claire. And happy boobday, Joanne. May you both have many, many more.
'Did you see she mentioned me on her blog the other day?' shrieked the Mitten one.
'Not by your actual name though, Joanne, so it doesn't count.' hissed Claire disapprovingly.
'I forgot to get you a present,' I mumbled, 'Here, I got you this bag of jellies instead'. This was a lie. I had not forgotten, I had merely failed to retain enough money to buy her anything. Easily done.
Both paused in their quaffing of mugs of wine to purse their lips at my jellied offering. 'I DON'T think so.' sniffed Claire.
'Tell you what, you can mention me on your site and we'll call it quits.'
I was delighted. Blogging is FREE. So happy birthday, Claire. And happy boobday, Joanne. May you both have many, many more.
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